I'm Not Gay, Bill
by SerendipitousP
Summary: Everyday, it was the same thing. "Hey, Dipping Sauce! You come out yet?" or "Yo, Pine Tree. Ready to go clubbing with me and the boys?" And everyday, you would answer the same. "I'm not gay, Bill." Because you weren't gay... for the most part. {Rated T for Language; College AU; One-Shot}
The phrase "I'm not gay, Bill" was almost more of a greeting now than an affirmation. Everyday, it was the same thing. "Hey, Dipping Sauce! You come out yet?" or "Yo, Pine Tree. Ready to go clubbing with me and the boys?" And everyday, you would answer the same. "I'm not gay, Bill."

And it was true... for the most part. You had been involved with many girls back in high school. Wendy had been your childhood crush for years until you had been paired with Pacifica Northwest for a project and ended up turning it in a week and a half late due to how much making our you were doing. You really weren't gay... exactly. But you weren't straight either.

But you, Dipper Pines, were going to be damned if your flirtatious, facetious, flaming roommate was going to push it out of you before you even knew for sure.

"Hey, Pine Tree!" Bill calls, flamboyantly.

"I'm not gay, Bill." You don't even look up from your physics textbook.

"Still not going to admit it, hmm?" He asks, pulling on his yellow pea coat. "Well, that's alright. I think tonight will finally be the night you crack."

"What's that suppose to mean?" You finally turn to him. He's dressed nice, which isn't really new. He was always dressed nice. But tonight Bill sports a white button up tucked into his favorite brown slacks, the ones that he raved made his ass look fantastic (which you couldn't help but agree with). A set of golden suspenders ran vertically up his stomach and chest, crossing as they digressed down his shoulder blades. Bill chuckles a little, noticing the extended amount of time that you've been admiring his attire.

"I have a date."

"And that's suppose to miraculously shove me out of the closet like Mr. Tumnus is sticking me in the back with a broom?"

"Something like that," Bill smiles devilishly.

"Well, good luck with that." You turn back to your homework. You don't quite understand Bill's plan, but you find that you don't really care. You were losing brain cells just speaking to him for this long.

"And good luck to you as well," Bill says, pulling open their dorm room door. "It would be of poor sport of me to not wish my competitor luck after he had wished luck upon me."

"Gorgeous fucking creep."

...

It's only about an hour or so later when Bill and another fellow come stumbling into your room. Bill is laughing hysterically as the man makes a chemistry pun you know Bill doesn't understand. The two disband when you come into sight.

"Oh, I didn't know your roommate would be here," says the man. He's a few years older than you, possibly a senior or graduated. He has built legs under a built torso under built arms under a built chin. He smiles like a lumberjack, chin all dotted with stubble. "Pleased to meet you." He extends his ax-worthy hand out to you. You try to take it without being jealous of how strong his grip is.

"Ford, this is Dipper. Dipper, this is Ford," Bill says, playfully latching himself onto Ford's arm. "He's a physics major, just like you."

"Hi."

"Hello there."

"Anyways, we were just going to hang out in here if you don't mind. You don't mind, right Pine Tree?" Bills smiles at you expectantly. If he thinks that this was going to make a difference in his case, he's surely mistaken. You shrug, not really knowing what words to say, and return to your work.

Bill and Ford make their way not to Bill's bunk, but to your nicely made one. Bill ushers Ford onto the covers and goes to grab his laptop. He returns, snuggles tightly up against the other man and turns on Netflix. You hear the opening for Breaking Bad start to play and you can't help but be a slight bit jealous. Bill knows that's your favorite show.

"How'd you know this was my favorite show?" asks Ford.

"Lucky guess," Bill giggles.

You begin to do your homework, but end up doodling in the side margin as you tune your attention into the episode. It was one of your favorites. You chance Bill catching you to look up at the screen. But only a small pixel of the laptop is visible behind Bill and Ford's furious, sloppy kissing. You watch as Bill bites down on Ford's lower lip with a smile. Ford grunts a little and pulls Bill closer. The younger man's eyes flutter open to look directly at you. You've never seen someone kiss with their eyes open. It somewhat intrigues you.

Your eyes dart quickly back to your homework. Bill chuckles slightly and you are unsure if you heard it or just imagined it. You try to ignore the messy suction sounds coming from only a few feet away, but you can't. You turn to face the couple again. They had shifted positions now, Bill writhing and squirming playfully under the other. His hands work expertly down Ford's back and to his hips.

You're nearly steaming. Here your roommate was, on your bed, watching your favorite show. This wasn't anything new. Bill had often nights fell asleep in your bed. He said it was softer and smelled like you. You didn't really mind, you would just sleep in his bed that night. When it started becoming a regular thing, you had suggested that they just switch mattresses. Bill had declined, claiming that it would no longer have that signature Dipper smell. You could kind of see the appeal. Bill's bed had a calmer, muskier, darker smell to it. Something comforting you couldn't quite get from girls. Like a hug from a long lost friend. When Bill had refused the mattress switch, you didn't want to admit that you were somewhat grateful.

You could smell it now. The dark muskiness of Bill times the soapy smell of you plus the overpowering Axey smell of someone else. _Someone else._ Someone else on _your_ bed, watching _your_ favorite show, with _your_ roommate. Someone else reaching down below the covers to... Oh, you could hit him.

"Alright!" you yell, pulling the older man's attention from the other. He sits up. Bill does not, he only smiles. "No make out parties while I'm here, and certainly not on my bed while my favorite show is playing." You pull Ford off the bed and out the door with strength that you could only have mustered on this adrenaline and anger fueled rage. He stammers apologies, but you don't hear them. All you hear is the slam and lock of the door. You turn on your heel to face your roommate. He's laying on his side in a 'paint me like one of your French girls' pose.

"I didn't know you liked Breaking Bad." Bill's voice drips feign innocence.

"Bullshit," you huff, leaning hard against the door. "And I suppose you didn't know that that is my bed, did you?" Bill chuckles.

"Guilty as charged."

"Seriously Bill, what the fuck did you think you were doing. How far would you have let this go if I didn't stop you?"

"See there's the thing," Bill's smile turns like the Cheshire cat as he rolls onto his back. "There's no way you wouldn't have stopped me."

"Oh yeah? Why is that?" You ask because you honestly don't have a retort for that.

"Because one, it was on your bed, two, it was during your favorite show, and three," Bill smiled mischievously. "It wasn't you on top of me."

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I know, but you love me." Bill rolls off your bed an saunters over to you with hip swaying gumption. He presses his chest against yours. You try to look disgusted, to make a gay retort and push him off. But you don't. He's already won and you both know that. So instead, you snake your hands around his waist and press a hard kiss to his lips. You open your eyes. He almost looks surprised. After a few moments, he pulls away abruptly.

"Hey," he points to his laptop. "Not while Breaking Bad is on!"


End file.
